


a kick in the teeth is good for some

by mischief7manager



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9599948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief7manager/pseuds/mischief7manager
Summary: "Kashaw is used to people not liking him.He gets it, okay? He’s not the easiest person to be around, and most of the time he really doesn’t give a shit. Honestly, up until he tripped over Vox Machina and their “ragtag bunch of misfits” fucked-up family, people liking him was kind of a rarity. Usually, they didn’t stick around long enough.But now he’s got Zee, and those idiots, and he’s settling into Whitestone as best he can and, well.Kashaw is used to people not liking him.But Kima not liking him is starting to get on his nerves."There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and beating the crap out of each other in the Whitestone guards' training grounds is one of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Critical Role Relationships Week over on tumblr. No spoilers past like... episode 45. Title from "Kiss with a Fist" by Florence and the Machine, because it turns out I don't know any songs about platonic relationships that work best when involving physical violence.

Kashaw is used to people not liking him.

He gets it, okay? He’s not the easiest person to be around, and most of the time he really doesn’t give a shit. Honestly, up until he tripped over Vox Machina and their “ragtag bunch of misfits” fucked-up family, people liking him was kind of a rarity. Usually, they didn’t stick around long enough.

But now he’s got Zee, and those idiots, and he’s settling into Whitestone as best he can and, well. 

Kashaw is used to people not liking him.

But Kima not liking him is starting to get on his nerves.

It’s the stupidest thing to be bothered by. It wouldn’t even  _ be _ a thing to be bothered by, but Zee’s always off researching the little black orb of death, and the arcanist lady’s always with her, so Kash and Kima both have a lot of spare time on their hands without the person whose usual job it is to keep them entertained, and they both really like to hit things when they’re bored.

Kash would just really like to share space with her without feeling like she’s about to try and beat him senseless, is all.

It comes to a head one day when he’s doing some spear work with the practice dummies in the training grounds. They’re pretty crappy dummies, hastily constructed, but it’s difficult to practice striking without anything to hit, so he’ll take it. 

He’s on his second runthrough of drills (the spearpoint still drops when he strikes directly after blocking, get it together) when Kima walks onto the grounds. They’re not the only people there, there’s a couple guards sparring on one end, and that Jarrett guy’s been firing bullseyes with his crossbow for like a solid half an hour, but somehow Kima ends up working the dummy right next to Kash. She’s going bare-knuckle, hands bound like a pro, and judging by the nine levels of shit she’s pounding out of the straw, she’s working through some stuff, and, well.

Kash kinda knows the feeling.

He sighs. Fucking Vox Machina and their habit of adopting strays. He’s starting to think it’s contagious.

“Wanna spar?”

Kima does a (pretty hilarious, honestly) double take. “With you?”

He shrugs. “You know anyone else around here lining up to try and kick your ass?”

Her eyes narrow. “Okay. Let’s spar. But no weapons,” she nods toward his spear. “Just fist fighting.”

He shrugs again. “Works for me.”

He sets his spear off to one side and goes to get strips of linen from the barracks. When he comes back, Kima’s doing stretches. She continues as he wraps his hands, as if to say he’s not even worth interrupting her routine over. “You ready?” he calls when he’s finished.

Kima grins. “Are you?” And they’re off.

She’s good. He’d known that, intellectually. The way the others talked about her, he figured she knew what she was doing. But there’s fighting with a weapon, and there’s fighting with your hands, and being good at one doesn’t make you good at the other.

But she’s  _ good _ . Good enough to keep him on his toes, which happens, but not often. He knows better than to underestimate her because of her size, and she knows better than to let him use her size against her, so they’re pretty well matched. 

They fight for a good while before he starts talking. “Bad day, huh?” he grits out, blocking one of her strikes and twisting until he can grab at her wrist. 

She pulls out of his grip neatly, pivoting to strike sideways at his torso. “What makes you say that?” she says, landing a bruising hit on his ribs that he’s definitely gonna feel in the morning.

He steps away, recentering himself. “Apart from you beating the shit out of me?” He feints to the left then strikes out to the right, trying to catch her sternum with the meat of his palm.

She dodges and grabs his forearm, twisting until it’s pinned up behind his back. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she pants. “I’d beat the shit out of you any day.”

She leans into the grip enough that his shoulder screams, and he only just breaks the hold before she dislocates it. “Yeah,” he says, finally landing a hit to her stomach that makes her wheeze before darting around, “but today feels special.”

Hand to the gods, Kima actually  _ growls _ at him. “You wanna talk, pretty boy?” she snarls. “Or do you wanna fight?”

He answers by trying to swipe her legs out from under her. There’s no talking after that, just the sounds of impacts and muffled curses, until they’re both on their backs in the dirt, too exhausted to move. Kash’s nose is bleeding, one of his eyes is swelling shut, and he’s pretty sure his ribs are bruised. He looks over at Kima (okay, yeah, no, his ribs are cracked, that’s a thing that’s happening now) and takes in her split lip, already purpling bruises on her arms, and her fingers red and swollen under the bindings.

“Feel better?” he asks.

She considers it. “You know what?” she says finally. “I think I do.” She looks over and grins at him, blood on her teeth. “You’re alright, pretty boy.”

“I try.” He sits up and winces. “You’re gonna have to gimme a bit before round two, tho.”

She cackles. “If I had a silver for every time I’d heard that!” She sits up as well and punches his shoulder, light and companionable. “Thanks.”

He shrugs. “Glad to be of service.” He stands up, and Kima accepts his hand when he offers and pulls herself up as well. “Drink?”

She grins. “Sounds perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you read here, and you want to support a charity of your choice, consider contributing to my charity fic commission over on [my tumblr](http://mischief7manager.tumblr.com/post/156547309777/i-dont-have-much-money-and-i-dont-usually-have).


End file.
